


orange painted sky; oceanside

by orphan_account



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Everyone Is Alive, Fix-It, Fluff, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Platonic Relationships, Reunions, alive, but not intended that way, can be read as romantic if u want, just newt bein pals w everyone, living his best life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:33:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21829018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Consciousness pulled at Newt like a gravity as he slowly became more aware that he really wasn’t dead, he was here, he was alive.
Relationships: Frypan & Newt (Maze Runner), Minho & Newt (Maze Runner), Newt & Thomas (Maze Runner)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22
Collections: Maze Runner Secret Santa 2019





	orange painted sky; oceanside

**Author's Note:**

> merry christmas to @venusiandeath on tumblr! i hope you have a wonderful holiday season and a happy new year<3

Newt had never been more surprised to wake up than he did in that current moment.

He hadn’t expected to wake up at all, if he was being honest. It wasn’t like he had much going for him. He’d been infected with the Flare, and Thomas had stabbed him in the stomach out of self defense. Newt had been perfectly content to die, in the moment. The entirety of his life had been a shitty go, from what he could remember, and hey, maybe the afterlife wasn’t so bad after all. Whatever family he had was probably waiting for him on the other side, if there  _ was _ another side, and he would have liked to meet him.

Newt wasn’t complaining about being alive, though. While he didn’t fear death, and hadn’t as long as he could remember, he had plenty to live for. Thomas. Minho. Frypan. Hell, even Teresa, no matter how much he hated her guts. He didn’t know who he had waiting for him when he did die, but he knew who was waiting for him to wake up here, and he was okay with that.

Consciousness pulled at Newt like a gravity as he slowly became more aware that he really wasn’t dead, he was here, he was  _ alive.  _ His eyes felt like they weighed a thousand pounds, his body a whole ton as he attempted to move even one muscle and his body ached in protest. Letting out a groan, he forced his eyes open, wincing at the light streaming into the room he’d been laid down in. He was in some kind of shack, hastily built, sunlight breaking through the gaps in the logs. The mattress he was on was somehow one of the comfiest he’d laid on (not that there was much competition) and a thin blanket was draped neatly over his body.

Forcing his head to turn to the side, he spotted a bottle of water by his bedside. Despite his body’s protests he forced himself up and reached for it, crying out at the pain in his side. His hand shot to the stab wound in his gut, thumb running over the stitches there. Whoever had done it was experienced, and had tools, too. So maybe there had been people that made it out of the city. Doctors. Architects. 

Maybe his friends made it out, too.

The thought prompted Newt to push through the pain, grabbing the water off the table and chugging it in one sitting, wiping the excess from his mouth with his sleeve. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, slowly pushing himself to stand up. For a moment, he felt balanced, and braved a step forward.

Newt was met with a mouthful of sand. 

He sputtered and spat, pushing his face out of the sand and rolling over with a groan. He grabbed the bedpost, heaving himself up to sit on the edge of the mattress, clutching his stomach that was crying out in pain. Running a hand along the stitches, he was relieved to find that he hadn’t popped one, but it was probably safe to avoid walking unless it was with help.

Newt startled as the curtain blocking off the entrance to his little hut was suddenly pushed open, and Frypan stopped dead in his tracks, plates of food in his hand. The two stared at each other for a much too long moment of silence before Newt broke it by saying, “Uh… hi?”

Newt speaking seemed to break Frypan out of his stupor, as he suddenly snapped to attention. “Newt!” Frypan exclaimed, dropping the plates of food and tackling his friend into the bed.

Newt let out a laugh, hugging Frypan back just as tightly. “God, get off of me, you big oaf,” Newt said, only half meaning it. Frypan pulled away, helping Newt sit back up and sitting down next to him. He put a hand on his forehead, and Newt batted his hand away. “Calm down, Mum.”

Frypan rolled his eyes, letting his hand fall back down to his lap. “We were worried about you, man. You were still sick, your fever didn’t break for a long time. For a while, we thought…” he went solemn for a moment, letting out a sigh. “We thought you weren’t going to wake up at all.”

Newt put a hand on Frypan’s arm, offering him a small smile. “It takes a lot more than a bloody disease to get rid of me, man.”

Frypan chuckled, patting Newt on the back, which made him groan in pain. “Shit, sorry.”

“It’s fine. Just a stab wound.”

“Anyway,” Frypan said, standing up. “I’d assume you want to get out of here and say hello to the others? Minho and Thomas have been worried sick, I had just convinced them to take a breather from sitting by your bedside.”

Newt smiled at the thought of Thomas and Minho taking turns sitting next to his bedside, checking his fever, ensuring he had been breathing. “Alright. Yeah, let’s go see them. Maybe get some food, too.”

Frypan offered a hand to help Newt stand, and Newt gratefully took it, leaning fully into his friend for support while he grabbed the crutches leaning on the wall by the entrance. Newt took them underneath his arms, using them to move carefully through the sand. Frypan was right next to him, holding out a hand to ensure he didn’t fall.

Newt limped out into the sunlight as Frypan brushed aside the curtain for him, and Newt let out a tiny gasp at the sight that greeted him.

It was beautiful. The Safe Haven had wound up being on a beachside, the waves gently lapping at the shore and the sun inching towards the horizon, giving the sky an orange glow. There were people working, children playing, teenagers enjoying dinner together and laughing. There wasn’t a sign of the Flare, of WCKD, of Cranks in sight. Not a single thing dared to disturb the peace; it was almost as if Newt had stepped into a world untouched and untouchable by mankind, a paradise beyond what the world imagined.

Newt limped further down the path leading to the larger part of camp, Frypan at his side the entire time. People Newt didn’t know and vaguely recognized passed them, giving the two curious glances. Soon the two reached the tent where the Gladers were sitting and eating dinner, and Newt stopped with a grin when he spotted Gally facing away from him.

“Well, well, well,” he said, quickly catching Gally’s attention. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

Gally quickly stood up, letting out a laugh. “Holy shit, man.”

Brenda came around his other side, happily exclaiming, “Newt!” She didn’t waste any time and barreled straight towards him, wrapping him in a gentler hug than Frypan had, likely because she was worried about his stitches. He released one crutch to hug her back, smiling down at her when she pulled away. 

Gally stepped forward, giving Newt a brief squeeze on the shoulder. “Glad you’re not dead. I’m really, really glad.”

“Probably the nicest thing you’ve said to me, Gally,” Newt said teasingly, glancing around. “Where’s Thomas and Minho?”

“Minho went for a run,” Brenda answered. “I think Thomas went to get seconds. Thank God, it’s the most he’s eaten in the past month.”

“You go for a while without eating, and then it all hits you at once. I know how it goes,” Gally said, jerking a thumb over to another tent. “That’s where the food is served. You can find him in there.”

Newt nodded, readjusting his grip on the crutches and limping over, holding back a grumble about how annoying crutches in the sand were. He peered into the tent, spotting Thomas coming out of line, a fresh plate of food in his hand. He walked out of the flap of the tent, completely missing Newt.

“What, not even going to say hello?”

Thomas stopped dead in his tracks, whirling around with a bowl of food in hand. He took a few steps closer, squinting as if he thought Newt was an illusion. “Newt?” He asked, so delicately and carefully it made Newt’s heart ache.

“I’m here, Tommy,” Newt said softly, and that was all it took for Thomas. He set the food down in the sand and threw himself into Newt’s arms, burying his face into his shoulder. Newt squeezed him back, ignoring the pain in his chest and the tug of his stitches. Thomas pulled away after a few moments of standing there and holding each other, keeping his hands on Newt’s shoulders.

“How are you feeling?” Thomas asked, looking him up and down. 

Newt shrugged, regripping the crutches with a grin. “I’ve had better days.”

“Should you even be  _ walking? _ ” Thomas said, leading Newt by the shoulder over to the tent where Gally had been sitting. “Come on, let’s get you to sit down, you must be exhausted.”

Newt snorted. “Tommy, I’ve been asleep for…” he paused, looking over at Thomas with a small feeling of dread in his gut. “How… long have I been asleep?”

Thomas avoided Newt’s gaze as he answered. “About two weeks.”

Newt’s jaw dropped.  _ “Two weeks?” _

Thomas led Newt into the tent, taking his crutches and using both of his hands to help him sit down. He sat next to Newt, nodding at Frypan, Brenda and Gally. “As soon as I stabbed you, Brenda came by with the serum. When Gally checked, you were still breathing, so we put it in you. You started to relax, and the veins went away, but you were still unconscious and dangerously unstable because of the knife.” Thomas’ knee bounced, and he looked down at his hands. Newt put a hand on his knee to calm him, and Thomas nodded in appreciation. “I… ran off to get back to WCKD. I knew my blood could save you, somehow, but I knew I had to be fast.

“Now, I  _ know  _ how you feel about her-” Newt suppressed a groan, “-but Teresa… actually saved my life. And yours. She got the cure, saved me from Janson, and threw me onto the Berg when I was bleeding out from a gunshot wound.”

“You got shot?” Newt yelled, and immediately regretted it as his entire chest lit up with pain. Thomas winced at his yell, and painfully nodded.

“Yeah. I did,” Thomas said. “Woke up about a week before you.”

“Jesus…” Newt said, looking around. “So where is Teresa?”

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “What, you  _ want _ to see her?”

Newt snorted. “No. But… if she saved my life, I think I can work my way up to forgiving her, y’know?”

Thomas nodded slowly, giving Newt a small smile. “Yeah. I do know.”

Just as Thomas finished talking, Minho came barrelling into the tent, sweaty and out of breath. Before Newt could even get a word in, he was picked up by the arms and swung around like a bride on her wedding day, Minho yelling, “I can’t believe it, you absolute motherfucker!”

“Minho!” Newt shrieked, smacking at the other boy’s shoulders. “Put me the hell down  _ right now!” _

Minho, reluctantly, let Newt back down onto the floor, immediately pulling him back into a hug. He held a hand at the back of Newt’s head, and Newt wrapped his arms tightly around his chest, resting his chin on his shoulder. “Man, I can’t believe it,” Minho said, still not letting him go. “You really took your time.”

Newt laughed, pulling away to look Minho in the face with a beaming smile. “You know me, Minho. Fashionably late as always.”

“Don’t come for my brand,” Minho said, clapping Newt on the shoulder. He eased him back down into his seat, sitting on his other side. “What did I miss?” He asked both Newt and Thomas.

Thomas shrugged. “Just the tale of how much of a pain it was to save his ass.”

“ _ Excuse _ me?” Newt said with a raised eyebrow. “If anyone here is the damsel in distress here, it’s Minho.”

“Well, pardon me, Princess,” Minho scoffed, resting his chin in his hands. “Sorry saving  _ your _ asses got me captured. Next time, I’ll let you get shot by the Rat Man with a taser gun.”

“Rat Man is dead, Minho.”

“Rat Man is not a person, it’s a mindset. Any creepy old guy that tortures children for fun is a Rat Man in my book.”

Newt laughed, slinging an arm around both Minho and Thomas. “I missed you guys,” he said sincerely, smiling genuinely at both of them. “I mean it.”

“I missed you too, Sleeping Beauty,” Minho teased, earning a lighthearted shove from Newt. “Next time you slip into a coma, please don’t wait two weeks to wake up?”

Newt chuckled, releasing his friends and resting his hands in his lap. “Yeah, never again. Don’t worry, so long as Tommy keeps his knives out of me, I’ll be fine.”

“I saved your life!”

“ _ After _ stabbing me.”

“Okay, okay, ladies,” Minho said, standing up in front of both of them. “Newt, aren’t you tired?”

Newt nodded, unable to deny the wave of fatigue that was threatening to overtake him like a tidal wave. “A bit,” he admitted, standing up with the help of his crutches. “I know I just slept two weeks,, but…”

“Being in a coma and sleeping are two very different things,” Thomas pointed out, and the two walked on either side of Newt as he limped back up to his shack, arms outstretched to ensure he didn’t fall.

They reached it before long, and Newt set down his crutches against the wall, flopping down in bed with more drama than was probably necessary. He groaned in pain as the movement pulled at his stitches, but waved Minho and Thomas off when they moved forward in concern. “I’m fine, Mum and Dad.”

“Dibs on being the Dad,” Minho said, sitting down on the edge of Newt’s bed. Newt smiled over at him and Thomas, and Minho gave him a gentle pat on the knee. 

“I’m really glad you’re okay, Newt,” Thomas said. “I’m really, truly glad.”

“Me too,” Minho said solemnly. “We’re like… a trio, us three. We couldn’t survive without all three. Like the Spice Girls.”

“Like the  _ who? _ ”

“You’ll remember eventually.”

Newt grabbed Minho’s hand, giving it a squeeze and giving Thomas a nod. “I wouldn’t be here without the two of you. I owe you both my life. Thank you.”

Minho waved a hand. “I feel like the three of us have saved each other’s lives enough we’ve got to be close to even. Even if we aren’t, I lost count a long time ago, so don’t worry about paying a debt back.”

“Bloody generous,” Newt deadpanned, and Minho shrugged.

“What can I say? I’m a  _ bloody saint, _ ” he mimicked Newt’s accent, and Newt groaned, shoving Minho off the bed with his foot. 

“Oh my God, get out,” Newt said, turning on his side. “Let me sleep.”

“See you in the morning, Newt,” Thomas said, and Minho gave him a wave. They closed the curtain behind them, hiding the dusk of the day from Newt’s gaze.

Newt was here. He was alive. His heart was beating, his lungs were moving. He wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Neither were his friends, and neither was this place. The thought eased Newt to sleep like a lullaby, and before long, he was fast asleep, at peace for the first time his memory recalled.


End file.
